One Hundred Different Moments
by Haruka Kokoro
Summary: Because love is more than just 100 different moments. // 100 Themes // Roy x Riza
1. Military Personnel

So, it's finally happened. I've been rooked into _trying_ to complete a 100 themes challenge.

For who, you ask?

Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye from Full Metal Alchemist. Who can get enough of the Royai goodness? -giggles-

I'll love you if you review, and reward everyone with more. -cackles-

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**1. Military Personnel**

The chaos continues to rage all through the building, orderly as it may be. Personnel rushing to complete last minute duties, bodyguards escorting important military figures from the building. Offices are left bare, papers left scattered over desks in pursuit of an important document that can not be left behind. Racks of weapons emptied, leaving only cleaning rags and jars of oil used in maintenance of the killing machines.

The last team to sweep the building after the evacuation is made up of the obsessed. Those who have their own reasons to desert their duties in occurrence of an evacuation only to run through the empty hallways of Central Head Quarters once their superiors had left the building. Riza Hawkeye is one of those in the team, breath rushing out of her lungs as she forces herself to keep running through the hallways, to remain as alert as ever incase a straggler calls out to her.

When the blonde haired sniper reaches a familiar office, she doesn't bother with the door. Preferring to kick it down before doing a quick search of the room. She knows none of her friends are here, because she personally planned their evacuation. Riza refuses to leave any military personnel behind, especially these people. Because they are her family. And she will do anything for them.

Even if this evacuation turns out to be a false alarm, she won't feel guilty for kicking down the door.


	2. Gunshot

Just puttering along.

Sort of Havoc's point of view, and a bit of Roy's.

Enjoy.

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**2. Gunshot**

"...down at the shooting range, sir." Havoc mumbled out of the corner of his mouth, answering his superior's question as he shuffled through a particularly large pile of papers a certain officer had left him to complete. He didn't bother to warn Roy Mustang to guard his ears against the loud sounds emanating from the shooting range. Because as much as he may be harming his hearing Roy Mustang finds peace in the sound of bullets ricocheting off targets, and at times even imbedding into the walls.

Jean Havoc remembers Ishbal, he remembers the sound of his gun firing the first time he ever shot at a living breathing human being. Gunshots are hardly a beautiful sound to him, and yet he hasn't even seen the worst of it. Riza Hawkeye was young, a high ranked military man's grand daughter. She was pushed into the violence before her time, made to live like a sniper when she was in truth just a girl. She makes firing a gun look beautiful, like a dance. But that's not what's so therapeutic for Roy Mustang, it's the sound of the gunshots.

The sound of a lead bullet ripping through the air, volleys of the killing projectiles imbedding into flesh, she can make such violent sounds into music. The staccato beat of the bullets, the hiss of the air, the crescendo of a well-oiled rifle's working parts. This is Riza Hawkeye's music. And though Roy Mustang may recall painful memories at the sound of a gunshot, he can not hate the music. Because he can not hate her.


	3. Battlefield

Another one down.

I wanted some fluff, so I hope everyone enjoys this.

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**3. Battlefield**

Roy Mustang swore violently as he sat up with a jolt, hand automatically running over his bare rib cage. The spasm of intense pain left him muttering profane comments while he gingerly prodded at the developing bruise. Sleepily, the Flame Alchemist rubbed at his eyes, blinking drowsily into the darkness as he peered across the bed. Following the tip of a delicate finger to an elegant hand, up a muscular arm to the bare flesh of an alabaster shoulder. Lazily he traced his gaze over the line of her jaw, to her innocently sleeping face.

Somehow, after all that she had accomplished that day, Riza Hawkeye still managed to have energy in her sleep...or at least she still managed to be as violent and forceful as ever. Roy himself was a tough adversary when it came down to combat, but nothing like the blonde haired devil beside him. Still grumbling, he grasped a handful of a downy pillow, and flung it at the woman. She shot up, alert as ever, a loaded pistol in her grasp as she scanned the room with a wary eye. Dropping onto his back, Roy groaned as she glared at him realizing he had woken her up apparently for no reason "Roy Mustang, what in god's name do you want now?".

The dark haired man continued to scrub at his eyes, biting out a sharp retort "What do _I_ want? You're the one who keeps injuring me in my sleep! How am I supposed to become Fuhrer when even my most loyal subordinate won't let me get a decent night's rest?!" he gave a grunt as he rolled on his uninjured side, pointedly not facing the blonde sniper instead facing the blank wall. Riza bit back a groggy laugh, having returned the pistol to it's place, before pointing out in a stoic voice "Last time I checked you enjoyed when I kept you up." this earned a protest from a now fully awake Roy Mustang, who had turned on his side to glare at the woman "That's an entirely different situation!".

Then, Riza couldn't hold it in any longer. All she could do is try desperately to breathe between silver peels of giggles. Slinking on all fours closer to the indignant Colonel, the still chuckling woman lay close to the alchemist who soon slung an arm around her. After a moment of silence, realization hit Roy Mustang as he exclaimed "I can't believe you took a shot gun to bed with you! What, don't you trust me?!" only to be silenced with a kiss.

Love is a battlefield, Roy Mustang, and so is the bed.


	4. Grave

Per Coco-Minu's suggestion, I'm trying to make these a little longer.

Thanks to everyone for reading, and those who review, thanks even more.

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**4. Grave**

Roy sat solemnly in the back seat of the somber black car, garbed in a long dark coat over his royal blue uniform. Beside him perched a little brown haired girl, and across from them a stoic blonde sniper. It was just last year that Maes Hughes had died, victim of a Homunculus who had killed him while wearing the face of his beloved wife. Not that anyone besides the now dead Maes knew this, as far as the military was concerned one of the vile Homunculus had delivered a shot to Maes' very heart and therefore murdered him. It had been a blow to everyone at Central Headquarters, particularly Roy Mustang and his unit. But no one had been affected nearly as much as Elysia Hughes, the young daughter of the late Maes Hughes and his loving wife Gracia. Even now, after the young girl had ceased wearing the somber little black dresses, the sight of the the cemetary visibly made her cringe.

As the car pulled to a stop, Riza helped Elysia remove her seat belt and step out of the car. The little girl's soft hand gripping Riza's calussed fingertips tightly. Roy followed close behind, shutting the car door behind the trio. Up the grassy hill they wandered, their steps crunching on the frosted blades of grass. The pre-winter gloom had set in, the sky a dull gray that nearly blended in with the rest of the muddy wet world. Even their military issued overcoats did nothing to help the gloom, only adding to the despairing mood. The only bright aspect of the world was the little red coat Elysia wore over her pale blue dress, and what had once been bright yellow dandelions which were now dry and frail clutched in her gloved hand.

They soon found the memorial they were looking for, a granite grave stone engraved with the name _Maes Hughes_. Frost had begun to creep across the stone, nearly obscuring the name from view. Roy and Riza paused, staring down at all that was left of their fellow soldier, while his young daughter crept forward with a small smile across her face as she knelt in the damp grass. And with that, she broke the silence she had kept since the Flame alchemist and his loyal subordinate had picked her up.

"Hi Daddy. How have you been? I hope you're not too cold in heaven, because I'm not quite sure how to send the scarf I'm knitting you for Christmas up there. Does Santa visit little kids in heaven too? I asked Santa to bring you home this Christmas, because you still haven't taught me how to do all kinds of important stuff yet.

Mommy said she'd help me learn to read, so I can do paperwork too! And guess what, Daddy? I can spell your name now! M-A-E-S H-U-G-H-E-S. I guess I'm kinda cheating, because it's right here." with that, she stabbed at the engraving on the grave stone, and then continued on with her conversation

"I also asked that Santa would bring Mister Mustang a ring for Christmas, you know, those special rings like you and Mommy have.

I brought you some pretty flowers. I picked them a long time ago, because it's almost Christmas right now. But there's no snow, Daddy, so I can't make a snow man. We'll come visit another time, maybe I'll build a snowman for you then! I love you, Daddy.".

The last sentence was mournful as the little girl scraped away at the frost encasing the stone, leaving the handful of wilted flowers scattered over the granite slab. Standing, as if she had taken care of business, Elysia turned to look at Roy and Riza. Reaching out for Riza's hand, Elysia noticed that as she had been arranging the flowers light snow had begun to fall. As the young girl squealed at this, Riza turned to Roy and murmured with a knowing smirk "A size 7 should fit perfectly." her left hand's fingers tumbling slowly to draw his attention to her fingers. And with that, Riza Hawkeye walked away, leaving Roy to silently thank Maes before leaving the grave behind.

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Eww. I didn't like that one bit. At all. . 

Better stuff coming soon...I hope.


	5. Weapon

Mm. Dinner gave me inspiration. That or fuel for my creativity.

This really isn't very long, but I couldn't think of many analogies or plots involving a weapon.

Read and review, please and thank you.

Riza's POV

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**5. Weapon**

**W**hen I think back on my life, I never thought I'd end up like this. I never thought that in the end all I would be is another weapon, another killing machine in the arsenal of the state. Thinking of how I used to be, I shudder at the thought. I was innocent, untroubled by the world around me. A good head on my two sturdy shoulders, I was too logical for the girlish dreams of my friends, but far too soft for the dreams of a boy. How did I become so different, how did I change?

**E**ven a woman like me has a story, a once upon a time. I was a girl built slender and lanky, no womanly figure to be seen underneath the pale dresses that through play ended up festooned with splatters of mud. Then he came, Roy Mustang, and then I was no longer a child. But not quite a woman. He left, I followed. The world of a soldier swallowing me whole, tearing the innocence right from my very being. My wits and logic, grace with a weapon, just your average sniper. But I wanted to be better, so I reached the top of my game. Because I could. Then I found him.

**A**nd the terrible things we did. We ruined and built futures. We shaped the course of history, and yet we always felt guilt. He and I retreated to desk jobs, simple city patrols. I to the East, and Roy to Central. Scarred from the wars, we left all that we knew in Ishbal. Burned our every memory, made ourselves forget. But when he decided he was going to the top, going to pursue the title of Fuhrer, he chose me to help him. How could I refuse? I pledged my loyalty to him. We would watch each other's backs from then on.

**P**erhaps we weren't as skilled at hiding our secrets as we thought. Maes Hughes, a close friend of Roy's and a man who became a close friend of mine, was far too intent on our 'getting together' for it to be normal. And now that he is dead, I miss his irritating prattle, the way he used to goad Roy into displaying his denial, making it obvious at how much he liked me. I hesitate to say loved, but that's something I'll never know.

**O**nly Roy Mustang knows what Roy Mustang is thinking, and not even I can truly tell what's going on in his head when he gets that sparkle in his eye. He is a mystery, as intricate as the alchemy array burned into my skin. Perhaps that is what draws Roy to me and I to him. He's devout when it comes to alchemy, and though I have no real skill with it I've been steeped in the lore since I was a child. It's apart of me, just as it's apart of him. Alchemy is where we connect, the bridge that joins our two worlds together.

**N**ow that I look back on life, I'm really surprised at how I came to be here. Not that I doubt myself or my abilities to adapt, but my willpower. Why did I allow myself to change, was it really for the better? But now that I have reached this far, I can say that yes, it was for the better. It takes fire to shape metal, to form the frame for a pistol, and even the strongest of metals soon submits to fire. Even the most beautiful of crowns can make an equally beautiful weapon.

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I really don't like this. At all. I just feel like I didn't capture things correctly, like I left a little piece of Riza out. It's not really Royai, it's sort of Riza-centric. But Riza is Roy's cuppycake, so I guess it's Royai. xD


	6. Death

So, who saw the hidden word in the last chapter? Basically, the beginning of every paragraph started with one of the letters in the word 'Weapon'. Precisely why they're in bold.

Death is such an overused theme, but I'll try to put a new twist on this.

Reviews make for a happy Haru-chan.

Spoilers, by the way. xD

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**6. Death**

"...Get the doctor down here, let's get him on support!" the medics rushed past carting a bleeding Flame alchemist down the sterile hallways, leaving a blonde haired sniper to gaze after them in mild shock. Shock at what had just occurred in a place she rarely knew as Amestris any longer. For all Riza Hawkeye knew, the Elrics had died at the hand of Envy the homunculus, and the seven deadly sins were wandering around wreaking havoc. She had been so focused on the raven-haired man in the seat beside her as she drove that the leutenant hadn't even bothered to check in with any of her fellow officers. Riza could only breathe, and hope that Roy would do the same. If not for her, then for his not yet reached goal of being Fuhrer.

_'He's alive, Riza. You're a soldier, stop panicking!'_ the woman reprimanded herself as she slumped in a chair. And yes, she did indeed slump. Only when either drugged, exhausted beyond all means, or immensely confused did Riza Hawkeye ever slump. Even the feeling of the Colonel's blood drying on her clothing and sticking to her skin didn't bother Riza now, there was too much to think about, too much to address. He couldn't die now, not now and certainly not ever. Roy had made it past Ishbal, couldn't he make it past this? Field-medics and hospital personnel alike barely noticed as diamond tears slid down the female officer's dirty cheeks.

Out of those little tears came full sobs, sobs that wracked Riza Hawkeye's entire body, making her spine shiver and her heart ache. Minutes turned to hours, and Riza remained silent, face cradled in her filthy hands. Dirtied with Roy Mustang's blood, and the savory scent of ashes the Flame Alchemist seemed to carry with him everywhere. If ever there was a time Hawkeye feared something, it was now. And the inevitable fear was of death, and that it would take away the man she admitted to loving far too soon.

It had been evening when Riza had carried the barely breathing Roy into the hospital, offering him to the medics who had rushed him off. Now, through the window a rosy red light could vaguely be seen rising over the horizon. Yet still there was no rest for the blonde woman in the waiting room, and no word of the Colonel's condition. During the night, other members of Central command had sauntered in. Falman had drifted in first with an offer of a fresh uniform to Riza or a ride home, both she had declined with a shake of her head and a solemn 'No thank you.' and after that Fury had peaked in only to return with a warm cup of tea. Havoc had come soon after Fury brought Riza tea, and hadn't left since. Slumped against a door frame, he chose to remain as silent as his female superior. Deadly silent.

When a nurse strode through the entrance, Riza stood with a jolt, remaining silent as the busty woman reported "General Mustang is still in critical condition, but we expect him to recover. He is currently slipping in and out of consiousness, and visiting him is out of the question until he is stable. Can I offer you something to eat, drink? There are pallets set out in a room if you'd like to rest..." Riza gave a tight lipped smile, one that seemed to be made of muscles sculpting her face and not emotions "Thank you, but no." and with that the young lady stepped out to finish reporting conditions to other families and friends of patients.

Hawkeye breathed a shuddering sigh, looking up at her fellow officer Jean Havoc as he dug deep into his jacket pocket for a cigarette "She's lying, isn't she, Jean?" Havoc looked mildly surprised as his cigarette was momentarily forgotten "Riza, why aren't you jumping at the idea of Roy being alright? She ain't payed to lie to us." he then returned to shuffling through random items in his pocket before grunting in content at his success. Cigarette found.

As he spun on his heel and lazily walked out, Havoc spoke "You should go, Riza. Roy won't be seeing anyone for a while. Take a shower, get some food, and I'll let you know if anything changes." all he received as a response was a nod and a stiff salute before Riza brushed past him and practically jogged out the door, leaving tracks of mud and dried blood in her wake.

Even as she walked through the streets toward her apartment, Riza's thoughts were on the hospital. The stares of civilians may be unnerving, but they certainly weren't as important as Roy's condition. When Riza had finally reached her apartment, pried off her shoes and trekked hurriedly to the bathroom, it was nearly lunch time. With a flick of her wrist, Riza had the shower running at a steaming hot temperature, and stripped out of the disgustingly dirty outer clothing. The first luitenant stared at her well-toned body in the mirror, counting the patches of dried blood that were both hers and Roy's. Staring at a body, just a form made up of flesh and blood. Something so easily broken down, and recreated. So fragile against death.

After soaking in the shower to remove the metallic scent of blood from her skin, Riza found herself rushing through her routine of dressing and dashing out the door. Striding down the streets at a brisk walk, keeping her own council in response to the stares and occasional questions of the shopkeepers who had seen her earlier. _'He's not dead, Riza. He's alive. They said he'd recover. Stop doubting him. You've never doubted him. Ever. Don't start now.' _her attempts to reassure herself weren't more than superficial comments, a mere mantra she had decided to repeat over and over in her head. He would be alright. He would live through this. Because he was strong. That's what she would keep telling herself. But flashes of the past kept rushing back, images of his bleeding form clutching the corpse of a young boy. Of his eyes sliding shut even as she begged him to keep breathing, to live.

Even if Havoc's uniform was dingy from the skirmish the evening before, the royal blue stood out in the bleach white corridors of the hospital, the walls of which held garrishly bright paintings in attempts to bring life into a house of death. Riza dodged a few gurneys carrying young children, who were in good condition and had a variety of broken limbs. Little incidents that would heal in time. Jean turned and waved at the blonde woman, an unlit cigarette perched between his lips as he called out "Riza. I saw the colonel, he's doing alright-" and with that she had passed him, hand raised while tossing a "Save it, officer." over her shoulder. Some young nurse who obviously was paying more attention to Havoc than to Riza lead the leutenant through the wards to a private room where Roy was certainly staying. When the woman opened the door, darkness greeted Riza, and for a moment she feared what lurked beyond the shadows. Still, she was ushered in and warned not to upset him or rile him in any way. Then the door shut and Riza was encompassed by the shadows.

"...Sir?" a quiet voice from the general area of the visitor's chair spoke. A rough croak responded "What did we say about out of the office, luetenant?" Smiling slowly, Riza murmured "Roy. How are you?" despite the darkness, small shafts of light trailed through the crack between the door frame and the door, illuminating the monitors and numerous bandages festooned over Roy's body.

"Alright. The stab wound missed the heart, so as much as it's a large wound there's no damage done to the ticker. All sorts of exciting little bumps and bruises, a few burns here and there. My eye..." and with that, the injured alchemist trailed off.

Riza stepped closer to the bed, looking over to find Roy flat on his back, attached to far more monitors and wiring than should ever be allowed. A white bandage covered his one eye, looping around his head and through his tousled raven hair. His beautiful obsidian eye. Gone.

The woman was surprised when she heard a strangled sob from the Colonel's lips, tears sliding down his cheeks from his uninjured eye as he began to babble "I can't do it. Not again. I can't go back, Riza. Not to Central. Not anywhere. I've killed so much with alchemy. I don't want this power, I don't want to hurt anyone anymore." and then silence drowned out any other sounds, all that remained was the sound of Roy's ragged breathing. Out of impulse, a rare thing to ever influence Riza, the woman leaned over and left a chaste kiss on the Colonel's cheek. Roy reached out for her hand, which she gladly offered, and clung to it tightly. With that, the Flame Alchemist cried himself to sleep. Something he hadn't done since long ago, since Ishbal. And that time too, Riza had been with him.


End file.
